


Mortal flesh

by hauntedpoem



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Haradrim - Freeform, Mortals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpoem/pseuds/hauntedpoem
Summary: Annatar takes some time off from Tyelpe's cloying affections and gets acquainted with mortals.





	Mortal flesh

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking of my previous fic, "Descendants" (Sauron's kiddies?) and this came out.  
> -  
> Also, the language that Dar speaks is purely my invention.  
> Dar is Hebrew for "Pearl" or "Nacre". I liked the ring of it and used it.  
> Garang was completely made up but upon a swift search on the internet, I found out that it is Malay for "fierce" or "powerful". Can mean "impulsive", "courageous", "foolhardy".  
> Lardda - I thought of pork fat (lard).

All day long he’s been walking through those lands. In his mind’s eye, he can see the things he’s going to forge with the knowledge of a thousand lives distilled into one drop of inspiration. With or without the Mirdain’s help.

Grey cloak and a traveler’s staff. Tyelpe was left sleeping in his lavish suite, thoroughly ravished and kissed with false promises of a swift return. However, Annatar did not plan to come back any time sooner, not before he could flesh out a plan that was now beginning to germinate in his vast mind. He needed reprieve from all those elves so he could hear his own thoughts in his own language.

Three weeks he walked and he bathed in the river and listened to the sounds of the dark forest. Creatures could already listen to his song. His was unlike Melkor’s. While his master’s spirit was born in dissonance, his was corrupted order, dark and fascinating.

A new world. That’s what he envisioned. That’s what he needed. After he pledged himself to Melkor, he knew he couldn’t be the same. It was impossible, an irreversible process. He could diminish and almost disappear like the valaraukar did or he would forge a new will, fire and pain and then transform beyond anyone’s expectations.

It had begun long ago and not Eonwe or even Tyelpe could change that in him. There are other things besides love and trust and friendship. There is betrayal and the brink of the abyss. Melkor showed him one thing to be true between them: who would command and who would serve. And the purpose of it was left to be defined. By him, Mairon or Sauron or whatever it is that they used to call him. To Melkor he was either despised servant or adored lieutenant and it was the simple vacillation between these two that created the need for Annatar. Lord of gifts, the new hope of this world.

Annatar hiked on steep hills and barren lands. He headed south, south-east. He called in secret all those that could listen and on his way he made improvements in the dark and potent speech he used to call on his beasts. If there was no hope for him then, there was no hope for him now. And it will never be.

The sun up in the sky and the crebain-crows sent to spy on the elves, Annatar passed into eastern territory. He could smell the Atani from far away. Their greed betrayed them. Even their breaths were noisy as if there was not enough air for all of them. Greedy little beasts that he could use somehow. And they were many, their numbers surpassed those of elves. And the best thing was that they were godless unless lust for life could be counted out.

He greeted the old bearded man in their common language. A savage, he may be but his flinty eyes lighted up when they saw Annatar’s beautiful elf form. He was tall, Garang of the Red Sun tribe. And strong. A man who could easily yield weapons and fight in his army. If he were to recruit, he would want him and his sons. Garang was the guardian of the border. He was bound for life in that secluded area, surrounded by the rugged stones and the boisterous goats.

A pair of donkeys and seven goats, chickens and a pig growing fat in a small enclosure. Annatar almost wanted to wrinkle his nose at the smell but then he remembered the orcs and how their fetid mouths smelled and he could abide worse.

“Good day to ye, stranger,” the man answered back holding a staff with which he herded the goats. “Not many visitors around here,” he muttered and made a sign of welcome. Annatar would have rather walked past him but curiosity won. He had horses, a black breed from the lands beyond the desert and apparently a wife from the same far-away place as well.

A small cabin could be seen near-by and in front of it a large fire and then a tent. This one was large enough for several people.

“My wife doesn’t take well to the air inside,” he said and Annatar’s curiosity was peaked.

She was much younger than Garang and spoke with a heavy accent. Sold as wife to the border man after his old wife had died. She was a delicate and slender thing, surrounded by pillows heavy with embroidery and small, round mirrors. Polished gems and chains of gold around her feet. Eyes painted with dark coal, hair dark, lips red. Annatar has never seen something like that before. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the pale pastel elves. Upon being greeted, she grinned like a snake. Her eyes were green as bile spilt from a crashed belly. It stirred fond memories of Angband.

Dar of beyond the desert was her name. Her eyes told Annatar stories of tall palm trees and camels, of huge stone constructions and gold chained slaves. For a moment, her pupils contracted with fear but then she smirked insolently as if to communicate back that she didn’t mind.

Her hair was long and black and she parted her veils to make room among the pillows for the stranger. Her temples shone with rose oil and Annatar filled his lungs with the smell. She dragged vapour from a pipe and exhaled slowly, eyes unfocused for a while.

“Ever since Lardda passed I have been alone. She was given to me by our chieftain,” by the sound of it, he was breathing hard and coughing. “If only she would stop inhaling that stuff.” He complained but his wife ignored him continuing to draw from the pipe. “She’ll finish it and then no more,” he said through gritted teeth eyeing the woman with a spiteful look.

“She’s useless. Can’t cook, can’t care for the animals, only lies among her pillows, smokes and sings.”

“Seems like a good occupation to me.” Jested Annatar.

“You know, we don’t get many of your folk passing through here.”

“My folk?” He laughed and took the golden cup that the woman handed him. Her hand was soft and her long nails were painted with a staining substance. They appeared black. “You must confound me for I am not of the Eldar.”

In reply, the man grumbled something and then began complaining some more. “She never serves me any of her drinks. She claims she’s a princess of her people. Hear, hear, Princess!”

Dar, the woman looked at him as if she wanted to strangle Garang and made a face of disgust.

“Just ye wait until I get rid of Lardda’s smell and you’re going to work hard and give me a son,” he threatened. Annatar just drank the strong tea and looked back to where the cabin was.

“Why is that?” he asked.

It appears that while on his border duty, Lardda passed away in their cabin and her stench still haunted those walls. That must have been unbearable, he wanted to laugh.

Men were incredibly… amusing. You couldn’t get bored with them, Annatar mused. The wife despised her husband and saw him as her jailer and the husband, a mindless beast of muscle and beard wanted revenge for the decomposed carcass of his Lardda and an heir to continue the line of unfortunate border keepers, appeased only by stolen princesses from far away beyond the desert.

He smirked and looked at Dar, surprising her while she treacherously slipped white powder in her husband’s drink and handed it to him with a hateful look. In a matter of minutes the man fell on the pillows drowsily and started snoring. Dar tried to push him out with her tattooed feet. Her ankles were clad in gold inlaid with pearls, rubies, and emeralds.

“What are you doing?” she asked and motioned to him to help her push Garang out of the tent and then pushed some more until he rolled into a puddle of mud. “Cah’ag!” She yelled and spat on his face.

They ate dried dates and waited for the air to clear in the tent. Until Garang’s heavy animal odour didn’t leave the space, Dar left the flaps open and fanned herself. Annatar drank his tea slowly and looked impassively at the husband’s body. It would rain soon. Dar’s supplies were dwindling and even though he could communicate with her by stealing the words from her thoughts, he preferred peering into her mind to know her plans. She never intended to remain here in this secluded and cursed place with Garang and every night since her coming here, she put him to sleep with a dose of opium powder.

“Ha’baar,” she whispered to him to come closer. He pulled the flaps of the tenth and stalked over the pillows to where she was sitting. Lasciviously opening her legs, she latched onto the hem of his tunic. “You’re beautiful, you’ll give me beautiful children,” he heard her thoughts and they couldn’t be truer. He was beautiful and he felt invigorated by the tea and her actions. Too much time spent with the elves has dulled his sense of appreciation for a deed well-done. He could see his past reflected in her actions. He made his own future, after all.

He clasped her neck with a strong hand and her face changed with fear.

“Good girl,” he whispered in the forbidden black speech and felt an immense thrill that she understood him perfectly. If Tyelpe wouldn’t be so hard to please in bed, Annatar would have ditched physical pleasures altogether but the secret knowledge of sensual works proved to have its advantages after all. Living flesh was susceptible to give in, even when the will of the mind enclosed it. Her hidden flesh was beckoning, moist and musky and Annatar enjoyed his enlivened limbs and the quickening of blood. He took her in steady thrusts until she cried out her ecstasy and then some more for he discovered he could grow insatiable. His flesh was iron hard and hers was supple. She writhed beautifully, encouraging him without fuss.

In the morning, he felt depleted, as if a part of him departed. He'd freely given of his seed and it was such a curious thing to do. Casually, he thought of other maiar and pondered on the matter of their restrained desires. Melian was excluded from the very beginning. He thought he understood her more. He thought he understood his existence more. Dar, the woman was lying surrounded by pillows and veils. Garang was nowhere in sight.

He woke her up and they understood each other mentally. She looked at him with veiled green eyes.He dressed slowly and departed for the horses. A total of ten, majestic, with shiny black coats. The beasts looked out of place in their enclosure. Behind him, Dar whistled for a mare who came trotting towards her. From a distance, he could see Garang’s form approaching, giant and ominous. He grabbed the woman by the hair and tried to drag her towards the tent. He hit her several times until the mare, frightened, hit him back cracking his head open on the jagged stones.

Dar lifted herself, straightening her clothes. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway. He made up his mind. The plan was settled, now that he got to know men and their weakness. He looked at her searchingly before mounting the stallion and whistling for the rest of the horses to follow him.

“Ne’baar,” he said, touching her cheek one last time. He rode back to Tyelpe, now probably desperate to accomodate any idea Annatar might have, after such a lengthy absence. He has brought gifts, black horses from beyond the desert. Everyone marvelled at them, no one dared ask how he came by them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if he knocked her up, folks so don't ask me. But he got some ideas regarding the rings, that's for sure.  
> Kudos are treats, comments are love!


End file.
